


Royalty Sharing Bed AU

by Manadrite



Series: RK1000 Week [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Murder attempt, Royalty AU, Stitching, They would’ve done ‘it’ if Connor wasn’t hurt, omg there’s only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 21:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17475644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manadrite/pseuds/Manadrite
Summary: “Guess we’ll just have to share the bed.”Connor blinked before his face began to slowly turn red, “No!”Markus frowned, more of a pout, “Why not?”“I- that’s- it’s indecent, Markus!” Connor flustered, “Just let me take the floor.”“Oh?” Markus chuckled, “Are you having indecent thoughts about me, Connor?”





	Royalty Sharing Bed AU

**Author's Note:**

> Royalty AU is the SHIT, I love them. I hope you enjoy ; )

The rain was unrelenting upon their struggling bodies, stumbling through the woods, horses killed without mercy, leaving them to fend for their lives.

 

The heterochromatic man tried not to stumble, supporting his companion with a growing sense of fear.

 

He had been deeply cut, an open gash that bled heavily and pained him with every step, if Markus had not been supporting him, he would’ve long since fallen.

 

A crack of lightning shot through the stormy sky, surprising him enough to lose his footing.

 

He quickly turned his body so that the brunet would fall on top of him, grimacing at the impact and growing steadily concerned at the lack of response.

 

Markus could not hear the pounding footsteps of the brutish men who were sent to kill him, but he knew that they could not stay.

 

“Connor, we have to go,” He struggled to help him up again, but Connor shook his head.

 

“Leave me.”

 

“No,” Markus snapped, “That is out of the question.”

 

“I’m only slowing you down, it’s not the revolutionary times anymore. You’re the next in line, you cannot die here,” Connor spoke shakily, but with the familiar fire of determination.

 

“My life, is no exchange for your own.”

 

“You are the people’s hope,” The brunet urged, pale face stained with streaks of blood, “My life was created to protect, I can think of no better death than by protecting my king.”

 

“And if they catch me? If I manage to get out? Who will protect me then, Connor? Do not speak as if we are strangers, I am no king with you, and I’d rather die myself than leave you.”

 

Before the knight could protest, Markus put an arm under his knees and lifted, holding onto his shoulders tightly.

 

For all that the kingdom despaired, Markus was no fragile thing, protection and strength was something he could give himself.

 

“You are a fool,” Connor sighed, frowning as Markus did his best to take the brunt of the rain, shielding the much leaner of the two as he stood and began to walk as fast as he dared.

 

The lack of fight, coupled with how cold Connor was, made his heart thunder.

 

It was entirely possible that Connor would die, because he protected Markus.

 

He gripped tighter onto the light armor, he hadn’t worn much, it was supposed to be a quick trip and Markus’ hadn’t been attacked for a while.

 

The light protection was no match against a sharpened sword.

 

All around him were trees that dropped rain and casted shadows, no hint of civilization or hope for that matter.

 

He sped up, desperation biting at his heels with every step he took.

 

Connor watched him with the familiar chocolate brown eyes he so often sought comfort in, a glaze over them that only made him move faster.

 

The brunet hissed in pain when his arm brushed the long gash, it split his entire right side open, bleeding sluggishly. 

 

Markus whispered apologies, pulling his cloak around them with one hand, silently begging every god to exist that they would be saved, that Connor would be saved.

 

The brunet has stopped shivering, his lips turning far too pale.

 

Finally, a familiar patch of land was before him.

 

He nearly cried in relief at the sight of the cabin that his father had left him, somewhere he went to be alone, only Connor himself knew of its very existence.

 

He stumbled to the front door, swiping the key from underneath a hollow piece in the wall.

 

It was cold inside, musty from disuse throughout the winter days that followed, but the rain was no longer beating them.

 

Perhaps most importantly, there was a fireplace, and material he could use to treat Connor.

 

He laid down the the pale brunet in front of the fireplace, upon a rug he so often laid in as a child as his father spoke of stories, that detailed of the wicked hierarchy falling, of him being the hero the land would need.

 

He despised such stories now, he was no hero, a glorified persona that led people to their death before finally winning a battle, before long after winning the war.

 

Markus quickly pulled logs from the side of the cabin, practically throwing them inside the fireplace with crumbled paper, and throwing a barely salvageable matches in.

 

The fire slowly built as he ransacked drawers, covering windows as he passed them with slowly more shaking hands.

 

Needle, thread, alcohol, rag, blankets, he checked them all off as he care across him and finally fell to his knees in front of his slowly shivering companion.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief that he was once again feeling the cold, not numbly watching his life drain away, and gently pushed him on his side.

 

“You are a fool,” Connor repeated, voice strained as his armor and shirt were removed to reveal his wounded chest.

 

“A fool for unwilling to leave a friend to die?” Markus challenged, “So be it.”

 

The heterochromatic man poured alcohol onto a rag, giving another for Connor to bite on as he began to disinfect the wound best he could.

 

Connor’s back arched at the first touch, muffled cursing from behind the rag he bit into, a broken scream when Markus poured alcohol directly onto it.

 

Markus flinched, lifting Connor’s head to coax him into drinking the alcohol, desperate to take the edge off of the pain.

 

When he pulled away, Connor shut his eyes with raspy breaths, “You must learn to value your life, I am not worth dying for, if it comes to it, you must choose your life over my own, my king.”

 

Markus slammed the bottle down, making Connor go quiet, looking up at him with his imploring brown eyes.

 

“Do not, make what could be the last time you speak to me, be that of telling me to let you die, of-of referring to me as if you are not someone I treasure. I am not your king, I am Markus, and you are Connor, please. Don’t forget who I am.”

 

Amidst the silence, Markus threaded the needle, giving him a warning look before quickly pulling it through the skin.

 

Connor flinched, biting his knuckle to stay silent, tears budding in his eyes.

 

Markus worked quickly as he dared, cursing every fumble that was slick with blood, stopping every once in a while to give his companion a break.

 

When he finally finished, cutting the thread with finality, his hands were shaking.

 

Connor, even in pain, noticed, and looked at him with worried eyes, “Are you in pain?”

 

Markus shook his head, biting his lip and gently wiping the now sewed up wound with a rag, wiping his own bloodied hands a moment later.

 

They sat in silence, the rain pouring harder by the second, the fire crackling in front of them.

 

“You could’ve died, because of me,” Markus finally said, voice heavy and dull, “Because of who I am.”

 

Connor shook his head, “It is my duty to protect you, if I were to die it would be of my own incompetence.”

 

“No,” The heterochromatic man refuted bitterly, “It would be because I am wanted dead and you value my life above your own.”

 

“I suppose that is truthful,” Connor didn’t look the least bit shameful, lifting his chin, “I do value your life above myself.”

 

“I don’t want you to.”

 

“Markus,” He sighed, yet Markus glared at him.

 

“I live with the blood of our people staining my skin, I walk among our fallen bones, I speak with their troubled spirits watching me every moment that I breathe. Do  _ not,”  _ His voice cracked, “Make me live knowing that I killed you too.”

 

Connor studied him for a moment, before reaching carefully and pulling Markus’ head onto his shoulder.

 

The bronze skinned man startled, yet the tension bled from his form, tears beading in his eyes as he completely slumped against him.

 

Connor cupped a hand onto the back of his head, stroking the short hair with his fingers, quietly musing at how tactile this man was.

 

“Death is inevitable, there is no avoiding or undoing it,” He finally spoke, “The least anyone could do is decide the way they go in their life that will lead them to the end they wish. Your people died following you, they followed you by choice, and with their deaths the revolution began to grow. Mourn for them, but do not let their death consume what’s left of your life.”

 

Markus knew he was right, it wasn’t easy to forget that so many died in your name, died following you, but he remembered the reverence they glowed as they fought for their freedom.

 

No, they didn’t just fight for Markus, they were fighting for themselves.

 

“Promise me you will not die.”

 

Connor blinked, looking down to where Markus had stilled.

 

“Markus, I can’t just-“

 

“Promise me.”

 

Connor sighed, weary and yet fond, “I promise.”

 

They stayed there, Connor running his fingertips on Markus’ head, Markus slowly calming his thundering heart, until the fire died down.

 

Markus pulled away after some hesitation, “There’s a bed in the other room.”

 

“I’ll take the floor,” Connor said with no hesitation.

 

“Connor you were bleeding everywhere not so long ago, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

 

“And I certainly am not letting  _ you  _ sleep on the floor,” He challenged back, stubbornness in his eyes.

 

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

 

“As have I.”

 

They flared at each other for a moment before Markus smiled, making Connor narrow his eyes warily.

 

“Guess we’ll just have to share the bed.”

 

Connor blinked before his face began to slowly turn red, “No!”

 

Markus frowned, more of a pout, “Why not?”

 

“I- that’s- it’s indecent, Markus!” Connor flustered, “Just let me take the floor.”

 

“Oh?” Markus chuckled, “Are you having  _ indecent  _ thoughts about me, Connor?”

 

The shortest face flared a cherry red, turning away. “Good night.”

 

Markus laughed, ignoring his protests and picking him up just as he had in the forest.

 

“Do I ever get a choice or will you always force me by carrying me?” Connor glared at him, but didn’t struggle.

 

“It would be best to just give in to me,” Markus told him solemnly.

 

Connor rolled his eyes and huffed, but couldn’t hide the twitch of a smile.

 

Markus set him on to the left side of the bed, frowning and piling blankets onto him.

 

“Markus, I’m fine,” Connor interrupted after the sixth blanket, “Just lay down, we need to go back as early as possible.”

 

“Eager to get in bed with me,” Markus laughed but slid into bed nonetheless.

 

Despite the circumstances, it was the lightest he had felt in months.

 

“No cuddling?” He pouted, not really expecting a reaction.

 

Markus’ breath hitched when Connor put an arm over him and laid his head on his chest.

 

“Good night, Markus,” Connor’s voice was thick with amusement.

 

Markus hesitated before burying his fingers in the soft brown locks of hair.

 

“Good night, Connor.”

**Author's Note:**

> THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED  
> they would’ve done the dirty if Connor wasn’t split open oops


End file.
